


Waiting for This Moment

by glassclosetcastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Music, Dean is a stress eater, Dean thinks Cas is a total babe, Destiel - Freeform, First Meeting, M/M, No Smut, Rated teen and up for language, Sam is a patient brother, Those blue eyes Jesus christ, cute though, dean is a total dork, silly fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 07:50:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3126764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glassclosetcastiel/pseuds/glassclosetcastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another moment or so passes before the guy finally realizes he has an audience, and Dean only has a split-second to register the guy's look of embarrassment before he makes his decision. He forms a microphone with his fist and starts singing along like he's in front of a stadium full of people. (In which Dean is a total dork but he still gets the guy.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting for This Moment

**Author's Note:**

> I had a prompt in mind: person A of your OTP jamming out to their favourite song at a red light when person B pulls up listening to the same song. Epic red light duet ensues.
> 
> Thank you so much to my beta, [alternaurora!](http://archiveofourown.org/users/alternaurora/pseuds/alternaurora) (Go check out her fics, she's pretty great.)
> 
> Enjoy!

Dean is halfway through mixing the batter for the batch of chocolate chip cookies he's been craving for days when he realizes they're out of eggs. It doesn't make any sense, though, because he's sure there was half a carton left yesterday. He double-checks the fridge one last time before huffing at the sight of the empty carton and broken shells in the trash. _Fucking Sammy._

"Sam!" he calls into the hallway, and he hears movement from the office two doors down, Sam's makeshift law library/study-for-the-LSAT-until-you-pass-out-from-exhaustion room. Dean calls it 'Nerd Central.' "What's up?" His brother's hulking frame appears in the doorway to the kitchen, and Dean holds up the empty egg carton in accusation.

"Dude. What'd you do with all the eggs?" Dean asks, and Sam gives him that stupid _duh, what do you think_ look, and Dean could just smack that look right off his dumb Sasquatch face. "If you say 'I ate them,' I swear to god, Samantha-"

Sam cuts him off with a placating, outstretched hand. "I did, Dean. I had some for dinner and I ate the rest for breakfast."

Dean squints at him, because, _really?_ "You really need seven eggs, dude?" He laces the exaggeration with as much incredulity as he can muster, tossing the empty egg carton back into the trash for emphasis.

"First of all, there were only five," Sam replies, and Dean rolls his eyes twice as hard as is necessary as he goes to scrub his hands with soap and hot water, "and secondly, yes, I did need all five of them. I'm trying this new paleo diet. You're supposed to eat-"

Dean stops whatever self-righteous BS that would have been by lobbing a wet paper towel at his brother's stupid, smug face, but Sam just catches it in mid-air, and _god damn him and his stupid diets and his ridiculous workout regimen and his fucking reflexes._ He grabs the keys to his car and slams the door on his way out without turning around to see whatever bitch face Sam is probably wearing currently. Dean grumbles all the way to the car.

He fumbles uselessly with the tape deck as he pulls out onto the road before remembering that it's broken. For good this time. It's been out of commission for a good few weeks now, but old habits die hard. Dean glances forlornly at the box of tapes on the floor and turns on the radio. The good classic rock station he and Dad used to listen to when he was a kid must have been bought out, because it's now playing some ridiculous easy listening garbage. He sighs and turns the nob until he hears something acceptable, zoning out as he hits the main road and rolls the windows down.

He feels his irritation leak away as the open road soothes him. Nothing makes him happy like the vintage '67 Impala his father left to him in his will when he passed away a few years ago. Sometimes he takes it out for a drive just to get away from the fucking hurricane that is Sam and law school and paleontology diets or whatever the hell else he's up to at the time.

His frustration has almost completely dwindled by the time he nears the grocery store, but there's a railroad crossing right before the turn-off to the shopping center, and of course the lights are flashing. Dean slows to a stop right at the barricades as Phil Collins comes on the radio, and _hell yes_ he loves "In the Air Tonight." Phil Collins is a fucking badass, even though he might deny thinking that if Sam ever asked. He starts singing along as the first few train cars speed by.

A car pulls up to his right, and he reins in the jam session a little bit, but continues to bob his head and mouth the words. _The hurt doesn't show, the pain still grows, it's no stranger to you and me._

Dean notices movement in his periphery, but he doesn't look. _Are they trying to get my attention?_ he wonders, subtly glancing to his right out of the corner of his eye, and yeah, there's definitely some frantic arm movement happening in the next car over. He sighs and turns down the music, finally fully looking over at the car to his right to see what the issue is.

The guy to his right is definitely moving his arms, but Dean quickly realizes that he's performing an epic air drum solo. He full-on stares as the guy beats out a perfect rhythm in mid-air, and suddenly Dean gets the idea that he's drumming to "In the Air Tonight." The guy's windows are rolled up, so Dean can't be sure, but he turns his own radio back up and yes, the guy's fucking killing it to some Phil Collins. Another moment or so passes before the guy finally realizes he has an audience, and Dean only has a split-second to register the guy's look of embarrassment before he makes his decision. He forms a microphone with his fist and starts singing along like he's in front of a stadium full of people.

The guy's ridiculous blue eyes light up with delight and he laughs, immediately joining Dean with drum accompaniment. Dean echoes his laugh and nods along to the beat. He points at the guy as another drum riff comes along, and the guy points his invisible drum sticks at Dean as the final words come. Dean is shouting the lyrics at the blue car next to him when he hears angry honking behind him. _Shit,_ the barricades have gone up and the light is already green. _How long have they been holding up traffic?_ Dean shoots the drummer an apologetic look before flooring it over the tracks.

He watches in his rearview as the blue car shifts into his lane. He steals another glance as he turns into the shopping center parking lot, and practically whoops in delight as he notices the guy turning in after him. The drummer parks in an empty spot right next to Dean and rolls down his window. Dean turns off the radio and leans across the seat, and _god_ the guy is hot, all shaggy dark hair and casual stubble, and those blue eyes, _Jesus Christ._ "Hey," Dean says, lamely, but the guy smiles, and he's even more attractive like that, with his eyes all crinkled up. "Nice drumming."

The guy flushes a little and huffs a laugh. "You weren't so bad yourself," he says, and his voice is like the gravel under his tires, and Dean wants to hear more of it.

"I'm Dean," he offers.

"Dean," the guy repeats. "I'm Castiel."

Dean grins. "Nice playing with you, Cas," he says, and maybe that was a poor choice of words, but Castiel smirks at him and nods. 

"Definitely," he says, and seems to hesitate before finally deciding to open the door. He gets out and leans into Dean's passenger side window. "Would you like to go for coffee sometime, Dean?" he asks, and _fuck,_ the way he says Dean's name is incredible.

"I'm free now," Dean says, thumbing over his shoulder at a convenient Starbucks, and as he and Cas walk together side by side, all thoughts of eggs and his half-baked cookies from this morning are forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [tumblr!](http://glassclosetcastiel.tumblr.com)


End file.
